Hello, Mr Foster
by New Level Darkness
Summary: Dimentio is in prison and poor Mr. Foster is the guard on patrol. Cunning words and surprises are some of Dimentio's best friends and greatest assets. slightly AU


Who doesn't like a good Mario fanfic every once and a while, right? Dimentio's too cool for a Mario game. I don't know how he got that role. Dimentio & Super Paper Mario (c) Nintendo  


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The cold and dark didn't bother Dimentio. In fact, he thrived in it. Empty and unforgiving; why, the two could be brothers! Dimentio and Dark, Dark and Dimentio. Best friends forever. Even the metal bars of a prison cell could be his friends. If he stood in just the right spot, he could look past them and at the prisoner in the cell across, scare him with a grin, pretend nothing happened, drive him crazy. Yes, bars could be good friends. Humans, however, were a different story. They did not want to be friends. They wanted to be enemies. They made that perfectly clear every time they walked past his cell. It was always the same; stare for a moment, hurry and look away, glance back, grimace, maybe mutter a curse or two, leave without another word. Some guards were worse. Some would actually approach him, try to strike up a conversation. Dimentio gladly obliged. And then the insults started, flying through the bars like winged bats. But bats were Dimentio's friends too, so they didn't hurt him. They brushed past his shoulders before he started up himself. His insults were so different than friendly bats; they were elegant yet pointed, woven deep into seemingly innocent comments. Often, the guards couldn't even catch that there had been any nasty intent in his speech. Of course, that had been a while ago. People didn't usually stop to chat anymore.

That was fine and all, but prison could become a bit lonely if one stayed there too long. Dimentio didn't like being alone for extended amounts of time; he liked company, you see. And not just any company; good company, the kind you don't find by chance. Say for example, a shape shifter, a secretary, and a Count. Perfect company, if you asked him. Of course, they weren't around anymore. He was the last of them. It was a pity, he thought of them often, but there was nothing he could do.

Presently, he was thinking of them, wishing he was still with them. Oh, they had been so much fun, always playing around! All that talk of mayhem, the end of all worlds; he missed it terribly. It was _such_ a _pity_ that all of that had changed.

Unfortunately, the guard that was making his rounds was approaching and Dimentio didn't have any more time to feel nostalgic. The guard (Dimentio believed his name was Julian Foster) stared at Dimentio as he paused by the cell, that delightfully heavy ring of keys held tight in his hand. Lounging on his barely padded bed, Dimentio felt almost obligated to stare back. Foster shuddered at the sight of his permanent grin.

"I feel, you know," Dimentio said, loud enough for any other guards in the corridor to hear. "I am capable of feeling."

"Sure, because we all know how guilty you felt while trying to destroy all worlds." Foster scoffed. Dimentio noted how he never made eye contact.

"Oho, I do not believe I said that I feel guilt."

"What d'you mean by that?"

"I have emotions, alright, but guilt is not one of them. Think more along the lines of rage, conceit, and cynicalness. And joy, I suppose, under certain conditions."

"… And what do you feel now?" Foster asked after hesitating. Dimentio's grin only widened.

"Rage, I suppose." Foster looked as if he didn't believe him. It was probably the grin.

"Really." He said, gaining confidence. "You don't look very angry."

"I'm not supposed to appear angry. That would ruin the surprise."

"What surprise--"

_BANG._

Dimentio, ever grinning, was instantly at the bars, his hand on the back of Foster's head, Foster's head bashed into the metal bars. A one hit KO. Blood streamed down the dented bars, dripping into a small pool on the cement floor. Nowhere to go, it spread across the ground. Thanks to Julian's insanely thick skull, there was a big enough gap for Dimentio to slip through. Good thing he was as slender as he was. He had always thought that keeping thin was important; maybe now, somebody would believe him.

He was on the other side of the bars, standing over Foster's corpse. The prisoners in the cells around him had heard the commotion and were trying to get a look at what was going on but no matter how hard they tried to bend their necks, only about three other prisoners saw Dimentio step over Foster and laugh. He laughed like he had just been told the funniest joke and then, grinning like mad, bent over and picked up that delightful ring of keys. He stayed like that for a few moments.

"Ah, like a magician during his show, I have just tricked you." He purred before straightening up. He looked left, then right. No guards. Just empty space. _Lovely._

The prisoners were still staring as Dimentio waltzed (quite literally) past their cells, swinging the key ring around his finger. Some of them even shrank back as he passed but he paid them no mind. They were only humans; Silly, harmless humans that didn't even deserve a mere glance from him. The keys made a pleasant jingling sound as he moved, almost like a song. So much like a soft little tune, that he started to hum. Now he was humming and dancing down a prison hallway shocked into silence, having a lovely time.

It felt nice to be alive.


End file.
